A Bloody Good Night Out
by gomababe
Summary: Scotland suggests that everyone go to a local bar to unwind after a stressful meeting. This is the result. Rated for drunken antics and mentions of alcohol


A/N: I really want to go out drinking with these guys, just because you're guaranteed to be entertained {even if it is likely that you're going to get arrested along with them should things kick off}. The boy band argument is something that I see the brothers disagreeing about all the time, just because there have been so many of them through the last few decades. Of course the biggest band of them all was the Beatles, but in the 90s you were either a Take That fan or a Boyzone fan. This probably caused many of the littler arguments between Ireland and England that decade.

_..._

"_LIFE IS A ROLLERCOASTER JUST GOTTA RIDE IT!"_ several nations who had been sitting next to England and his brothers at the bar shuffled away from them nervously. Portugal, however, couldn't, because England was gripping his shoulders too tightly. Not that he was complaining, of course, he rather liked it when England cut loose and had fun for a change. He glanced over to see France debating whether or not it would be a good idea to leave and sit next to Spain and Prussia, who were sitting nearby laughing their heads off at seeing Scotland drunkenly 'serenading' the European nation. When the song finally finished, Ireland laughed,

"T'best boy band in the world those guys." He announced as he finally sat back down again. England snorted as he put his glass on the table,

"Yeah, right!" he called back, his accent having gone all Manchurian in his drunken state, "You forgetting abou' the Beatles, like?" Portugal sighed, he was far too used to these silly little arguments by now, but that didn't mean he liked listening to them. Ireland rolled his eyes, and leaned forward onto the bar unsteadily,

"I'll give ye that Sasana, but I was talking about t'recent ones." He retorted. England cackled,

"If it's recent ones you want, then they're still no'hing to Take That." Portugal untangled himself from his 'husband' while he was distracted. This 'disagreement' was probably going to take the rest of the night. He sat next to France instead, who was quite happy to see Scotland shake his head and turn to him instead of getting involved,

"Looks like those two'll be distracted fer a while." He noted. France sighed in annoyance,

"Remind me never to come out drinking when all five of you are present next time." He pouted. Scotland laughed,

"Ye say that every time Francis." He said, "Come on now, we're haein' fun aren't we?" France's lips twitched up into a small smile,

"I do admit that it is nice to see you and your brothers getting along in public for once, _mon cher_." Scotland pretended to look outright offended, though the smile plastered on his face ruined the effect,

"Whit d'ye mean, "fer once"?" he laughed, "We're no a'ways tha' bad are we?" Portugal laughed along with him,

"I'm afraid to inform you, Escocia, that I was a little worried when you suggested that everyone come for a drink after the meeting." He admitted. Scotland looped an arm around the Iberian nation,

"Ah, come on Port, we a' need tae cut loose every once in a while." He said, "'Sides it's no' like ye've no' seen us a' get on like this afore." He added. Portugal laughed again as he ducked under the Scotsman's arm,

"That is true, but it doesn't happen often and I know how bad you all are with each other at the best of times." He replied. He finally noticed Argentina and Brazil waving for him to join them instead, shrugged to Scotland and France, and left. Scotland shrugged as he turned to look around the rest of the pub. He grinned as he noticed Canada stumbling over to his little group. The Canadian man blinked a little as he finally registered that the nation that he was looking for was sitting more or less in front of him,

"Ah, there you are Uncle Scotland!" he called as he made his way to the bar, only to lose his footing and practically fall onto it. France sighed a little at the sight of his 'son' being this badly inebriated, but didn't say anything.

"Oops," Canada giggled as he righted himself, with Scotland's help, "thanks uncle Scotland." He hiccoughed. Scotland beamed at the younger nation,

"Nae a problem laddie." He replied easily, "Now what brings you a' the way o'er this way? Weren't ye hanging oot wi' yer brither and Mexico?" Canada shrugged,

"Mexico stole Texas again." He replied, "Al's chasing her in the street outside." Scotland snorted,

"Nice tae see someone can keep the laddie in line." He muttered. Canada, upon realising that France was sitting next to Scotland, beamed at his father,

"Ah, _papa_, I didn't see you there. _Comment ca va?"_ he asked. France smiled back at the young man,

"_Je suis bien_," he replied, "though I am a little disappointed that you can barely stand up." He added. Scotland clapped a hand on his lover's back,

"Nonsense France, the laddie's enjoyin' himsel'." He turned to Canada, "Dinnae listen tae him, son, ye're auld enough tae look aifter yersel'." France snorted,

"I was merely pointing out that I was 'oping that _mon petit_ would be able to hold his liquor better." Canada giggled again,

"I'm doing better than Alfred; he's stumbling all over the place after just four beers." France raised an enquiring eyebrow, while Scotland actually voice the unspoken question,

"An' whit aboot you then?" he asked. Canada leaned on the bar top,

"Uhh..." the blonde nation paused as he tried to remember what he'd been drinking up to this point, "I think I've had... four beers, two large rum and cokes and we're starting on the vodka now... Russia's treat." He added, waving over to Russia, who smiled back and returned the wave. France paled a little at the revelation, but didn't say anything. Scotland on the other hand winced,

"Ye're gonnae feel that in the mornin'." He noted. Canada shrugged,

"That's hours away, might as well enjoy the moment, eh?" he replied easily, before grabbing the attention of the poor barkeep to get the next round of drinks in. Ukraine came up to the bar with a small smile,

"Matvey? I think you will need some help with those glasses." She said, nodding to France and Scotland, who nodded back politely. Canada turned and gave her a large smile,

"Thank you, Katyusha, that's really thoughtful." He said, "Could you get us a tray? It'll make things easier." He asked the barperson, who gave a long-suffering sigh and nodded, handing Ukraine a tray to put the drinks on. Ukraine smiled at him,

"Thank you." She said as she put the glasses onto the tray and went to take it back to her own table. Canada took a gentle hold of the tray, causing her to look at him curiously,

"I'll be ok to carry this." He insisted. Ukraine giggled,

"Stop trying to be so gallant, Matvey, you can barely walk without tripping over your feet." Canada pouted a little, but gave in,

"I suppose you're right, eh? _Merci,_ _ma belle ange."_ Ukraine flushed a little at the compliment as she hurried back to the table. Canada sent Scotland and France a wink as he followed after her. France chuckled as he watched the two leave,

"And _Angleterre_ insists that _Matheui_ 'as no French charm." Scotland took another drink of his whisky,

"Ach, England jus' hates admittin' the laddie's half yours. He's got the best o' baith worlds; your looks and charms and England's 'guid manners'." Just as France was about to reply, a yell from Wales caused them both to turn around just in time to see Ireland topple over, England looking a little smug as he sat back down,

"Let tha' be a lesson to ya. Don' go dissin' ma best bands." Scotland gave a long suffering sigh as he picked Ireland up and helped him to the door of the pub,

"Right, I 'hink it's aboot time we a' went back tae the hotel." He announced, swiftly swatting at England's ear as he passed his younger brother, "That includes you, ye wee bawbag." England glared at his oldest brother,

"But I'm no' done drinkin'." He retorted. Scotland stopped, sighed, handed Ireland to Wales and Northern Ireland to help outside, neatly turned around and stared levelly at the sandy haired nation,

"Ye've got tae the count o' three tae yer backside oot that door." He deadpanned, "One..." England glared at his brother, not moving another inch. Scotland began to outright glare at him this time, "...Two..." he intoned, his tone becoming sharper. England wavered a moment. Scotland cocked his head in a questioning manner, as he took a breath. England scrambled past the other nations sitting next to him at the bar, past his brother and out of the door of the pub. Scotland nodded in satisfaction, sent France an apologetic smile and waved to the rest of the nations in the pub,

"Sorry aboot that lads an' lassies, we'll see ye tomorrow afternoon." He called as he followed his younger siblings out of the pub and onto the street. It was only five minutes later that all five of them ended up with a warning by the local police for disturbance of the peace for singing too loudly in a residential area. All in all, all five nations agreed, after they were allowed to leave, that it had been a bloody good night.


End file.
